Meera and her Ways.

Meera drinks nectar like an inconspicous child. With a bowl dipped in sugar lime soda. She travels around your iris,swallowing apples. All at once. The windowsill fades aways as she drops her clothes on her mosaic, transparent floor. Refraction delivers prejudice. A moist floor. A lady bird walks in an old fashioned way to sip her hollow images. Meera is an Ecosystem of sins and sins. A tapestry cracking.
She wears a deep mauvy bindi to discard her ebony scared patches of dead dreams.

She is like a shadow of an unlit oil lamp, threading a map of disgusts and soft lust onto her soft skin.Her outer skin defines mangroves and thunder. A cobweb.
Asphyxiation of dark charcoal, burning.
A soft kiss on a lover’s forehead. Squeaky.Gentle. Her body, a holy chant. Silent words plunged deep into her heart like an owl’s glance in austere darkness. Sharp.
She floats her arm in the void air and she becomes a forbidden territory. Demarcation.

Meera rests her heavy eyelids near your sequin moth- like mouth with a prismatic mirage of loops. As if she knows you.Her tampered electronic voice.
Her orange rusty elbows.
Pickle paradise rests somewhere in between her lofty legs, harrowing.
Her skewered jawline defining her rumpled life.Roads of distress.A conjunction of poets.

Meera is like a clay-ball. Elastic. Absorbing and sinking in her sickness and lies. Lies of trivial sagging head spins. All lies.
Summer breeze collides her eyes and fills her sloping toenails with antique emotions.
Meera is an art. A wooden box of pixie dust. Incensed with crisp secrets and desires. She floats with her semantics of time, piled like a silver stack of spoons.Galloping her fears, she puddles the dirt each day. May be that’s her crime.

You introduced meera like a beautiful story..like a introduction of movie..starting from she drinking nectar like a child..And then your battle of writing began..”travels around your iris,swallowing apples..” generally we eat..but swallowing is Soo good though like a kind of different animal,..” eco system of sins And sins,”. In first paragraph this ending is fab “She wears a deep mauvy bindi to discard her ebony scared patches of dead dreams”…………..and second paragraph started with kind of oxymoron..not exactly though..that shadow of unlit lamp..loved this line..and you started expressing about meeras emotional state…and my favorite was ” Silent words plunged deep into her heart like an owl’s glance in austere darkness. Sharp” actually Soo deep..AnD well framed with extra ordinary imagery…………and third paragraph was pretty normal..not to offend you but you have wrote these kind of lines lot of times..so I fel okay with this mortal physical appearance lines…and my favorite was last paragraph….”Meera is like a clay-ball. Elastic. Absorbing and sinking in her sickness and lies. Lies of trivial sagging head spins. All lies.”this is Soo wow👌👌👌👌,comparing meeras heart with clay ball was amazing thought,and lies sagging was another beautiful imagery. And my most. Most lovable lines ❤❤💖💘ncensed with crisp secrets and desires. She floats with her semantics of time, piled like a silver stack of spoons.Galloping her fears, she puddles the dirt each day. May, be that’s her crime.””” This is outstanding,,especially the line she floats her semantics like pile of spoons..brilliant devika..how depth you have gone to write this…and last emd..DO YOU KNOW HER..well..meera is part anD parcel of every human being…that meets exist in everyone….like an art with secrets and tears AnD abyss of distress and pain

How could you write such big comments, wow!
So, Meera can be perceived in so many ways but primarily her despair and desires is what one needs to see. You have narrowed down her depth through your words and I am highly impressed and flattered as always.
Writing this was a new discovery for my inner thoughts as well. Hence, this is close to me.

I surely do not mind your words about the third paragraph for it’s totally okay. I may or may not be the same always.But, my thought process shall never cease, I believe.

So overall, thank you Kalyan for such a heart melting response. You are such an honest reader of mine.🙏

Yeah..I am not telling that you wrote bad..you wrote wonderfully..but thing is for every poem you raise the bar…so regular fans like me expect a lot from you..Soo even though you write good one..it feels ordinary for me…so until you write excellent..I will not be happy😊😊,when I am happy I write long comments

Astounding! This one is going in my top favourites. I am in love with the idea. First when I read ‘meera’ in the title the thought of meerabai instantly took root in my mind. But when I read the poetry it destroyed the previous image and created a new meera, much different than the other one. I loved the contradiction of the characters💖💖

Hey MVS!
So, here I am, secretly reading your writings! 😜
“She wears a deep mauvy bindi to discard her ebony scared patches of dead dreams.” This line is so crisp. Very wonderful!
“Meera is an art. A wooden box of pixie dust. Incensed with crisp secrets and desires. ” Loved this one as well!
Honestly, I’m in L-O-V-E with this piece. Also, I also appreciate your poetries. I love your writings because every piece is like a breath of fresh air. Lots of love to you. I’m your reader, trapped and it’s too late to escape 😜💙

I am going to stick and love your words for quite some time now in my memory, Orange.
Calling my work fresh air is genuinely all that I can ask. I cannot thank you much for always drinking my words and being there.
You are truly an amazing person.

ooh! I usually believe Universe has a perfect design …but this loss is not fair! For now I receive from your heart what you offered to mine 🙂 I hope it gets resolved, there is nothing in my spam either.

Beautifully penned Devika. How Meera resides with all her pain and aspirations in all of us.
How we try to pull us out of that deep abyss by putting a deep crimson bindi on our forehead and try to fight the engulfing darkness. The beauty is not in your words Devika it’s about the perspective that how everytime I reread your poems it gives birth to a different poem imbued with poetic beauty. Brilliant is the word, my dear.

Yes! I know her and she gave everything for her Lord Krishna. How do you do it? Seriously! This is out of this world. If you associate yourself with such a sainly poet then you are spot on because your work is divine.

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A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times.
Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied.
My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others.
Curator of Olive Skins.